Early this morning a thunderstorm came through our area. As is his habit, Tristan had already made his way from his bed to the floor next to our bed. The lightning flashed across the sky and when that happened, he woke up and got pretty scared. I reached out a hand to comfort him and he eventually fell back asleep. I describe this incident because it made me think back to long distant memories I have of doing exactly the same thing when I was Tristan’s age. I remember as far back as when I was three and four years old, waking up in the middle of the night and going to my parents’ room and laying down on the floor beside their bed or else getting into bed with them, seeking comfort and reassurance. As is often said, history repeats itself, sometimes even in the little events of life.